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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990437">Misunderstandings and Mayhem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibylla/pseuds/sibylla'>sibylla</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bleach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Biting, Getting Together, Grimmjow has a big bad crush, Humor, Ichigo isn't the brightest crayon in the box, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:41:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibylla/pseuds/sibylla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grimmjow shows up in Karakura Town beaten and bruised with his regenerative abilities stripped, it falls on Ichigo's shoulders to take care of him. Slowly, the entire truth surfaces — Grimmjow was cast out of Hueco Mundo for loving a human. </p><p>After a bit of sleuthing, Ichigo comes to the conclusion that Grimmjow’s long-standing crush is none other than Orihime Inoue. But why does Ichigo feel uneasy about it? And why does Grimmjow insist on sleeping in his bed every night?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>325</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I recently rewatched the series because of the tybw announcement and was finally able to write up a lil something for my otp. </p><p>Rated T for language, nudity, and kissing. </p><p>Enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doorbell donged right as the Kurosakis were settling down to eat. Isshin was gesticulating over packages of Korean take out Ichigo had bought from his part-time job at the local convenience store. Something about a jilted husband swimming after his wife’s getaway boat. Ichigo wasn’t listening properly. It was going to be another swelteringly hot night, so he wasn’t looking forward to going up to his room to sleep. His cotton t-shirt was soaked under the pits even with the shitty kitchen air conditioner on.</p><p>“The doorbell,” Karin pointed out, cutting through Isshin’s word salad.</p><p>Ichigo slammed his hands on the table and stood. “I got it.” Anything to get out of the house. Hopefully there would be a breeze outside.</p><p>“Be careful out there!” Yuzu called. Softer, she added, “I wonder who’s calling at this hour?”</p><p>“Gotta be one one of Ichigo’s delinquent friends,” Isshin said. “As I was saying, the husband was arrested in the hospital by the police, but they can’t legally throw him in prison until —”</p><p>“No one cares, Dad.”</p><p>“Wait, I’m getting to the crazy part!” Isshin yelped, loud enough to be heard from the front door. “He swam for Japan in the Olympics in 1994! Isn’t that crazy?”</p><p>“Real crazy, Dad.”</p><p>Ichigo reached the front door and flung it open. No one was there.</p><p>He stepped onto the porch and gazed at the dark street in front of the clinic. A single street lamp down the road plunged a neighbor’s lawn in dull yellow light. He stilled, sensing a faint trace of familiar spiritual pressure.</p><p>
  <em>Kisuke Urahara.</em>
</p><p>That couldn’t be right. Why would Urahara ring his doorbell at nine o’clock at night? Besides, he’d gone over to the shop last night to drop off goods from the convenience store. The man had wanted ten packs of instant coffee and a bag of chicken-flavored cat treats, presumably for Yoruichi. Ichigo didn’t know why Urahara would play fuckin’ ding-dong-ditch, but, then again, why the fuck did he do any of the stupid shit he did? </p><p>Just as Ichigo was about to go back inside, a wham of spiritual pressure hit his senses. He staggered backward, gripping the doorknob with both hands to keep steady. “What the…” He slammed his badge against his chest. “I’m going out!” he shouted over his shoulder.</p><p>He blurred, reappeared on top of a lamp post several streets away. This spiritual pressure was also familiar, though different from the presence at his door earlier. It was coated with an unnatural metallic taste.</p><p>After scouring the area, he pinpointed the unstable mass of energy to the small clearing next to his old high school where he had first encountered Ulquiorra and Yammy. There, in a deep ditch, lay a crumpled figure with powder blue hair.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Ichigo leapt down, calling to mind the day of the week. It was Friday. Grimmjow had missed their weekly fight. Was <em>this</em> why?</p><p>Up close, he had to admit—Grimmjow wasn’t looking good. Fresh blood dripped down his handsome face, his black jumpsuit was torn and bloodied, his right elbow was bent back at a weird angle, and there was a grotesque cut bisecting the scar tissue on his chest. Someone had beat the shit out him with the intent to kill. Ichigo dragged him out of the pit and laid him flat on the balding grass. When the back of his head hit the hard-packed dirt, Grimmjow’s eyes opened, irises glinting gold in the moonlight. Then his gaze landed on Ichigo’s face and he let out a ragged groan. “Fuckin’ great.”</p><p>“What the hell happened to you?” Ichigo was breathing a bit hard. “You were supposed to come yesterday.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>Ichigo fell to a squat. “Grimmjow, who did this to you? Do you still have enemies in Hueco Mundo?” If it had been anyone else, Ichigo probably would have panicked more at the sight of so much blood, but this was Grimmjow. He’d seen the guy cut up more times than he cared to count, and it was usually Ichigo inflicting the violence. “I’m just saying, 'cause it doesn’t look good.”</p><p>“I know that, dipshit!” Grimmjow snarled, and then an intense flash of pain crossed his face. He doubled over, arm curled over his bleeding chest. “Fuck. <em>Fuck</em>.”</p><p>Ichigo licked his lips. “We need to get you to a healer. Here, take my arm—”</p><p>“Fuck off!”</p><p>Ichigo backed away. “Okay. If you aren't gonna accept my help, then why’d you come here?”</p><p>“I didn’t have a choice—” With a choked-off groan, Grimmjow stumbled to his knees, arm hanging at his side at a weird angle. “You think I came here willingly? No, you shit noodle, I was <em>left</em> here. Probably hoping the shinigami in this town finish me off.”</p><p>Ichigo glanced at the sky above their heads, half expecting a garganta to open up. “Well. All right. I could leave you here to bleed out—”</p><p>“Didn’t expect anything different.”</p><p>“—but if I did that, I’d lose my only reliable sparring partner." Grimmjow looked up at that, his belligerent blue eyes widening. Ichigo flattened his lips. “It’s the truth, Grimmjow.”</p><p>Even after two and a half years of meeting up in the human world for weekly fight-to-the-death matches, he still didn’t consider Grimmjow his friend. The blue-haired arrancar was still someone to whom he applied the rule of “punch first, talk later.” Still, he wasn’t about to let his one-time enemy bleed out in a patch of grass. He pulled Grimmjow’s sticky, mud-caked arm over his shoulder, deciding to stop at Orihime’s apartment—</p><p>
  <em>Wait. Orihime’s out of town.</em>
</p><p>Without warning, the arrancar’s skull collided painfully with his own. Ichigo fell back, crying out in shock.</p><p>“What the fuck!”</p><p>“Don’t need your help, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow sneered through a mouthful of red teeth. “I can take care of myself.”</p><p>“Fine, then," he snapped. "Just sit here until a hollow shows up and decides to slurp you down for dinner."</p><p>“Why do you even <em>care?”</em></p><p>“I probably shouldn’t,” Ichigo said darkly, seriously considering just leaving the asshole to die. “But the last thing I want is your death on my conscience.”</p><p>Ichigo reached for Grimmjow again, but he lashed out like a dying man with nothing left to lose.</p><p>“Will you—just let me—<em>help you!</em>” He swung his fist back and clocked Grimmjow hard on the jaw.</p><p>He dropped like a stone. Ichigo picked him up around the middle and flash-stepped.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Urahara was wide awake and not lying in a puddle of alcohol, which was a legitimate concern on most Friday evenings. “Oh my, what do we have here?” the shopkeeper said, sliding open the wooden shop door. With the other hand, he spread his fan over his mouth.</p><p>Ichigo readjusted Grimmjow’s good arm over his shoulder. “Found him bleeding in a ditch. His spiritual pressure feels weird, too. Orihime’s on a trip, so I figured I should bring him here.” Ichigo shuddered when Grimmjow’s manky hair grazed his cheek. “Fix him up, will you?”</p><p>“Your dad’s a doctor,” Jinta said from behind Urahara’s shoulder.</p><p>“Like fuck I’m taking him home with me,” Ichigo said. Grimmjow, under the same roof as his two little sisters? He’d die first.</p><p>“We don’t turn away the needy at our doorstep, Jinta. Please, bring him in,” Urahara said, opening the door wider. “Ururu! Get hot water and a dishcloth, please! We have a guest!”</p><p>They settled Grimmjow on a spare futon in Urahara’s sparsely furnished apartment. Ichigo sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and leaned his shoulder on the TV stand, watching Ururu systematically wipe crusted blood off Grimmjow’s face. Meanwhile, Urahara sat on a mat and thumbed through a leather case of shiny, pointy-looking needles. He raised a long needle to the light. “What do you say, Kurosaki-san? This one looks mighty sharp.” Ichigo side-eyed the needle.</p><p>“What’re you gonna do with it?”</p><p>“A bit of stitching. But before that...” The man exchanged the needle for a syringe and cleanly drew a quarter pint from Grimmjow’s inner elbow. “Good. Curl his forearm up now, Ururu, and hold it.”</p><p>“What’re you doin’ with his blood? Hasn’t he lost enough of it already?”</p><p>“I’m going to run some tests to see what they put in him.”</p><p>Ichigo sat up straight. “Who? Put what?”</p><p>“The other arrancars, of course. There’s a reason why his spiritual pressure is the way it is. By the way, Ichigo, you needn’t stay here any longer. Grimmjow-san is perfectly safe with us.”</p><p>“Right.” Ichigo didn’t budge. “Kisuke, can you tell me what kind of hollow did this?”</p><p>“Gonna avenge me, Kurosaki?” said a scratchy voice.</p><p>Startled, Ichigo met Grimmjow’s slitted blue eyes. With his face clean, he looked almost like his regular self. “Like fuck,” Ichigo snorted, settling back against the wall. “I’m worried they’re gonna come through a garganta and try to kill us.”</p><p>Grimmjow shifted to look at the ceiling. “They have no interest in you. Their main objective was to get me out.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“None of your business,” Grimmjow grunted. Ichigo suddenly wanted to spin him by the collar until he spit out the answer, but was held in check by the look Urahara gave him.</p><p>“Fine, asshole,” Ichigo snapped, “I’ll get it out of you later. Just know that I'm only trying to help you.”</p><p>“It’s none of your fucking business!” Grimmjow shouted suddenly, rearing halfway off the futon. His hand knocked over the bowl of pinkish water Ururu had used to wet the cleaning rag.</p><p>“Now, now, Grimmjow-san.” Urahara placed a placating hand on his shoulder. Grimmjow threw it off.</p><p>“Don’t touch me!”</p><p>Despite Grimmjow’s flailing, Urahara effortlessly pushed him flat on the futon with the tips of two fingers. “How about we all calm down and—”</p><p>“No, Kisuke,” Ichigo interrupted, “we need to figure out who beat him up like this. What if they come to the Living World? Do you really trust his judgement?”</p><p>“And I keep telling you that it doesn’t concern you, dickhead!”</p><p>“It’s all right, Ichigo. Like Grimmjow-san says, I don’t think the world of the living is in any danger.” Urahara removed his hand from the arrancar’s shoulder and began to thread the enormous needle. Both Ichigo and Grimmjow’s attentions were momentarily diverted as the needle tip reflected the lamp’s light in a rather sinister fashion. “Lie back,” he told Grimmjow, “and try very hard not to twitch.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t he bite down on something first?” Ichigo asked. He’d seen that in the historical films where they didn’t have anesthesia. The character getting his limb amputated always bit down on a strip of leather. Grimmjow could bite down on Pantera’s sheath. Or he could bite Ichigo’s—</p><p>“That flimsy ass needle ain’t gonna penetrate my skin, old man,” said Grimmjow.</p><p>“That’s where you’re wrong,” Urahara said cheerfully. “I developed these needles for the sole purpose of stitching hierro. I thought it would come in handy sooner or later, at the rate you and Ichigo rip into each other.”</p><p>Grimmjow stared at the needle with flat eyes. Ichigo kind of understood what he was going through. Hell, if he were faced with a needle-wielding Urahara, he’d probably piss himself. “Hey, Kisuke, maybe I should, uh, knock him out or something. Before you stitch him up.”</p><p>“Like fuck you will—”</p><p>“That won’t be needed. As a matter of fact, I <em>do</em> have something that might help...” Urahara raised his voice. “Jinta!”</p><p>The two kids peeked around the sliding door. “Yeah?” grumbled Jinta.</p><p>“Fetch me the pink container from the shop. It’s underneath the cash register.” Jinta let out an exaggerated sigh, but they heard feet patter down the stairs. Less than ten seconds later, Jinta was back. He tossed a small jar to Urahara. “Thank you. Grimmjow, you should probably take three. Actually, no. Make that five.”</p><p>“The hell are those?” Grimmjow stared at the jar as Urahara unscrewed it.</p><p>“Think of them as... fancy pain-killers.”</p><p>He shook five little tabs onto Grimmjow’s palm. Ichigo squinted. “Those are vitamin gummies.”</p><p>Urahara smirked.</p><p>“They’re shaped like bears. What the fuck, old man?”</p><p>“Teddy bears are appealing to small children.”</p><p>Grimmjow’s jaw clenched. “Hey, Kurosaki, you still wanna fight me after this is over, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Then make sure this bastard doesn’t kill me while I’m out.” With that, Grimmjow tipped all five gummies into his mouth. There was a moment of silence, and then his eyeballs rolled up and he collapsed on the futon, dead to the world.</p><p>“That worked better than I expected!” Urahara exclaimed. “Ururu, note the time. 10:56 PM.”</p><p>“Are you <em>experimenting</em> on him?”</p><p>“He’s quite hardy, Kurosaki-san. I wouldn’t worry so much.”</p><p>“Who’s worrying?” Ichigo grumbled. He pulled up his knee and rested his chin on it, watching Urahara deftly sew up Grimmjow’s gash with the glittering needle.</p><p>“All done,” the shopkeeper said a moment later. “Do you have the sling and bandages?” From the doorway where she sat cross-legged, Ururu nodded and silently passed him a roll of white wrap. The logo was familiar; his dad used the same stuff in his clinic. “Kurosaki-kun, do you want to help me with this?”</p><p>Ichigo startled out of his thoughts. “Help you? With what?” Urahara held out the roll of bandage wrap. “What, you want me to—put that on him? No way.”</p><p>Urahara’s smile was almost kind. “Don’t worry. He isn’t going to wake up.”</p><p>“That’s not why— I just don’t want to do it.”</p><p>In the end, it was Tessai who helped Urahara set Grimmjow’s broken arm and wrap his chest and head. He came out of it looking like a mummy. </p><p>“Why isn’t he healing? He usually heals really fast after our fights,” Ichigo said eventually.</p><p>“That is the main reason why I took a blood sample. I suspect they spiked him with a drug that slows down his body’s natural regeneration properties and blocks the effects of healing kido.”</p><p>“You know who did it.”</p><p>“I have my suspicions, yes.”</p><p>“Why won’t you tell me who—”</p><p>“Because I hardly think Grimmjow-san wants you to know.” Urahara rose to his feet. His belly rumbled. “Man, oh, man, I’m getting the midnight munchies! Be right back!” <em>His clogs sure make a lot of noise at night</em>, Ichigo thought as the man ambled away toward the kitchen. And where was Yoruichi? Wasn’t Yoruichi living with Kisuke at the moment?</p><p>Ichigo got to his feet slowly, joints stiff after an hour of sitting in the same position. He stopped by the futon to stare down at Grimmjow’s sleeping face. Whatever Urahara had given him had sure knocked him out. A furrow had formed between the arrancar’s wispy blue eyebrows, like he couldn’t stop scowling, not even while unconscious. Ichigo snorted and knelt to take a closer look at the head wound.</p><p>Urahara had pointed out something strange earlier while he and Tessai had been bandaging him up. He’d said that the superficial cuts were for show. Sure, they bled a lot, and the blood loss was massive, but the slices weren’t deep, and whoever had cut him had picked spots that bled a helluva lot, like the scalp. The more debilitating injuries had been internal, but Grimmjow hadn’t been anywhere close to death like Ichigo had originally thought when he’d dragged his mangled body out of the pit. Ichigo didn’t know exactly what that meant: whoever busted him up wanted his injuries to look worse than they actually were?</p><p>“He’ll be fighting fit in a few days.” Urahara’s voice came from the doorway. Ichigo looked up to see him snacking on a bag of Cheez Its. “You might want your father to give him a once-over.”</p><p>“No way. He isn’t coming anywhere near my house.” Ichigo stood up, totally straight-faced, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been caught kneeling by his rival’s bedside. “How long is he gonna be out like this?”</p><p>“The whole night. I didn’t want his blood pressure to rise.”</p><p>“Right.” He didn’t even know hollows had bodily functions like… blood pressure. <em>Well, no shit. They have blood.</em> “That’s cool. Thanks a lot, Kisuke.”</p><p>Urahara gave him a small smile and stepped aside to let Ichigo exit the room. “When is Orihime-chan returning from her trip?"</p><p>“Monday morning, I think. I’ll have to ask her.” The faster she came back, the faster they could reverse the damage that had been done to Grimmjow. And the faster Ichigo could have his weekly fight with the bastard. Grimmjow owed him two fights next week if he didn’t get better by Sunday.</p><p>Another thought stopped him in his tracks.</p><p>“Hey, Kisuke… you didn’t stop by my house earlier tonight, did you?”</p><p>Urahara’s eyes widened. “Me? Of course not. I was ankle-deep in sake and cat fur until you knocked on the shop door.”</p><p>“You were… <em>what?</em> Forget it, I don’t want to know.” Ichigo huffed. Did he imagine Urahara’s reiatsu outside his house? He didn’t think so. But if Urahara was determined to hide something from him, he wouldn’t find out until the man told him straight up. That’s the kind of guy he was. A devious motherfucker.</p><p>In fact, Ichigo had a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot Urahara wasn’t telling him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ichigo wouldn’t admit it to a soul, but most mornings nowadays, he woke up with Grimmjow in his mind's eye. He dreamed vividly of flowing blue hair and black claws, so it didn’t feel strange to roll out of bed hazily thinking of the snarling bastard. But this morning, Ichigo’s eyes flew open to the sound of his phone’s stupidly obnoxious ringtone, a snippet of a flowery anime opening, courtesy of Karin, who thought a practical joke like that would be funny. He didn’t know how to change it back. The ringtone had embedded itself in his phone like some kind of virus.</p><p>“Ichigo! Someone’s calling!” shouted Kon.</p><p>“I know.” Ichigo turned on his side, doubling the pillow over his exposed ear. “God, I fucking hate that song,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Really? I kinda like it.” Ichigo didn’t need to see to know what Kon was pretending to sing along.</p><p>The music stopped, and Ichigo eased himself back to sleep. The call was probably Urahara, but he had said last night that Grimmjow was going to be fine, right? Urahara had promised that he would be. Anyway, he was too comfortable to get up—especially since he’d lost his shirt and pants during the night. He was tangled all nicely in his covers now. Occasionally, he shifted his bare legs to find a cooler spot in the bedsheets. He’s been through two wars. He’s earned the right to sleep in.</p><p>Unfortunately, Kon didn’t seem to agree. “Ichigooo! Wake up! Aren’t you gonna check your messages?”</p><p>Ichigo groaned and spread flat on his back. With his left hand, he blindly reached around his cluttered desk, knocking over a framed photo in the process.</p><p><strong>[Hat and Clogs]:</strong> <em>Good morning, Kurosaki-san! I would recommend that you come over to the shop as soon as you can! We have a slight emergency.</em></p><p><strong>[Hat and Clogs]: </strong> <em>(P</em><em>lease don’t forget the cat treats.)</em></p><p>“What?” Ichigo bellowed, shooting upright. “What kind of emergency? Dammit, why does this guy never say?”</p><p>Kon sniffed. “Probably has to do with that <em>hollow</em>. That you <em>rescued</em>.”</p><p>“I didn’t rescue him. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do? Let him drown in his own blood?” Ichigo dug through his closet. Goddammit. Yuzu had taken away most of his shirts for cleaning.</p><p>“A bloodthirsty <em>beast</em>. Which you willingly carried to <em>safety</em>—”</p><p>“Kon, shut up.” Finally, he found a shirt that smelled only mildly and shoved it on along with a pair of beige cargo shorts.</p><p>“He threatened to stab me repeatedly with his sword,” Kon wailed from the desk chair. “How <em>could</em> you show him mercy, Ichigo?”</p><p>“He probably didn’t like being called a homicidal pervert in a catsuit.”</p><p>“Do you know<em> how long</em> it took me to dry my stuffing?” Kon hissed.</p><p>“Uh-huh.” As he rubbed deodorant on his pits, Ichigo’s mind went back to that night. A month ago, it’d monsooned for a whole week and his boss at the convenience store had asked him to work extra hours, since the other evening employee had come down with the flu. After hurrying back home and drying off, he’d realized with a sick jolt that he’d forgotten all about fight night. On cue, a severely pissed-off Grimmjow had pried open his bedroom window, stepped on Kon, dripped water all over his bed and carpet, and had let out a snarl of expletives that had nearly woken everyone in the house. Grimmjow had been <em>wet</em>. Soaked to the skin. His hair had been plastered to his face and his eyes had shone like sapphires.</p><p>That had been a good fight. Totally worth blowing his nose for the next few days.</p><p>“Get that dumb smile off your face. God, you're an ass, smiling at my misfortune!” Kon wailed. Ichigo flipped him off.</p><p>“Ichi-nii, where are you going so early?” Yuzu called from the kitchen. “Have breakfast!”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m coming.” He went down the stairs and stuck a piece of jam toast in his mouth at his sister's insistence. “I’m going to Urahara’s. Wait.” He cursed, remembering the request for treats. Karin looked up curiously from where she was sitting on the couch, shifting through Yuzu’s pink makeup bag. “He’s making me go to the store first. You guys need anything?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Karin, “get me black nail polish. The kind with golden sparkles in it.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it if I see it.” He set off down the sidewalk, kicking dirt and pebbles. More cat treats—what for? Yoruichi wasn’t even here. And why did he always end up being Urahara’s bitch boy? Grimmjow better be feeling better, ’cause Ichigo was itching to cash in on that fight.</p><p> </p><p>About thirty minutes later, Ichigo let himself into Urahara’s shop. A closed sign hung over the sliding door, but the door was unlatched.</p><p>The upstairs was silent. No shouts or raggedy growls. Maybe the bastard was still unconscious. He climbed the stairs cautiously, and then stopped dead, convenience store bag nearly slipping from his suddenly slack grip. A giant wooden barrel filled with hot, steaming water sat in the center of the room. Yoruichi lounged in it, arms splayed over the edge of the tub. The swell of her nut-brown breasts just grazed the water line. “Ichigo!” she shouted. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”</p><p>“I thought Kisuke was calling, so I ignored it.” Ichigo peeked through his fingers, just in time to see her explode out of the steaming barrel in all her ass-naked, boob-dangling glory.</p><p>“Do I smell <em>snacks?”</em></p><p>“Holy fuck, woman, get away from me!” Ichigo yelled, making a run for the end of the hall. Despite being slick with water, barefoot, and little more than half his size, Yoruichi sailed through the air and tackled Ichigo to the ground in the middle of the hallway. They wrestled for the convenience store bag.</p><p>“Man, am I starving. Kisuke has nothing good to eat around here—” When her left breast squished against his chin, Ichigo’s grip slackened and Yoruichi made grabby hands for the treat bag. “Brilliant! You have good taste. This is my favorite brand!”</p><p>“You are so fucked up,” Ichigo cursed.</p><p>She rapped him on the head with the bag. “Stop staring at my nipples, pervert.”</p><p>“Then get off me and put clothes on—mmm!” Yoruichi slammed his jaw into the straw hallway mat. He heard the crackling sound of plastic and paper.</p><p>“Oh, what’s this? Is this for you?”</p><p>She was holding the black nail polish. Making a face, Ichigo pushed himself into his elbows. “No way. My sister asked me to get it.”</p><p>Yoruichi’s reply was lost to him; at that moment, Ichigo felt a familiar twist of spiritual pressure in the air. He looked down the long hall to see Grimmjow standing under one of the flickering lights, his right arm in a navy blue sling. His jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, but the white bandages wrapped around his torso gave the illusion that he was wearing a shirt.</p><p>He was glaring at Yoruichi’s bare ass like he wanted to incinerate her with a cero.</p><p>“Ichigo, why are you — oh. Grimmjow is behind me, right?” Quickly, Yoruichi leant down, squashed herself against his chest, and said in his ear, “Want me to do your nails?”</p><p>“Do— do what?” Ichigo struggled to break eye contact with Grimmjow.</p><p>“Black nails will look good on you.” Yoruichi’s whisper tickled the shell of his ear. "Sexy, even."</p><p>Ichigo blushed. “What—no! Get off me!” To his relief, Yoruichi rolled off with a sharp cackle, clutching her treats and nail polish. She had left a sodden mark on his t-shirt… and the crotch area of his shorts. Great. It looked like he had peed himself.</p><p>“What were you doing with that shitty cat just now?” </p><p>Ichigo scowled and snapped his legs shut. With Yoruichi gone, his splayed legs were just asking for a kick in the balls from Grimmjow. "I had stuff to give her. What's it to you?" </p><p>“You after my treats, Grimmjow?” came Yoruichi’s laughing voice from the adjoining room. “Don’t forget you’re a cat, too!”</p><p>As Grimmjow's blue head snapped toward the living room, Urahara sauntered out of the tiny half-bath wearing a terry robe that showed too much of his fuzzy chest. “Grimmjow-san, I see you’re awake,” he said. “Kurosaki-san must be relieved. He worried <em>so much</em> last night.”</p><p>“He's lying," Ichigo said loudly. </p><p>Urahara used his fan to prod Ichigo and Grimmjow into the living room. Jinta was in the process of pushing the wooden tub to the far corner of the room. Yoruichi had found a set of lacy underwear to put on and was busy crumbling dry kibble over a bowl of egg and ramen. Ururu sat on a cushion with a booklet of math problems. A typical morning, no danger to be seen, but Ichigo remained on his guard. "So, uh... what’s the emergency? You called me here saying there's an emergency.”</p><p>“There is,” Yoruichi said through a mouthful of ramen-kibble-duck sauce. “Grimmjow’s in my room.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You heard her,” Urahara said, holding the fan up to his face. “Grimmjow-san hijacked her bedroom. Big no-no.”</p><p>Ichigo looked at them. “What am I supposed to do about that?” Grimmjow slid down the wall and glowered at a spot near Ichigo’s right sneaker. Slowly, under the pointed gazes of the other three occupants of the room, Ichigo understood. “No,” he said. “Fuck that, Kisuke. He isn’t coming to my place. Why can’t he sleep in this room? There’s tons of space here.”</p><p>“Like I want to do either,” Grimmjow snapped. “I’m going back to Hueco Mundo.”</p><p>“And be sent back here in worse condition than last time?” Urahara questioned. “You know your attackers won’t let you off so easily. With that regeneration blocker in your system…”</p><p>“This <em>drug</em>,” Grimmjow snarled, “is going to wear off in a few days. You think I can’t hide out in the desert until then? I ain’t staying here, old man!”</p><p>“Why are hollows after you?” Ichigo asked. Grimmjow waved his question away.</p><p>“None of ya business.”</p><p>“Grimmjow-san, I’m terribly sorry, but my word is final. You can’t stay here, so I’m throwing you into Kurosaki’s unwelcoming arms. Please find it in your nonexistent heart to forgive me.”</p><p>“Kisuke, I can’t take him in!”</p><p>“Sure you can,” Urahara sing-songed. </p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Why’re you so twisted up about it?” Grimmjow stood and stalked over to where Ichigo was fuming. “Ya got embarrassing hobbies you don’t want me knowing about, Kurosaki?”</p><p>“I live with my family,” Ichigo said darkly. “You think I want someone like you near them?”</p><p>“I don’t want to hurt anyone but you, Kurosaki. I won’t touch any of your little friends and family. They aren’t worth my time. Once my arm heals, we’re gonna fight, and I’m gonna split you open from head to toe. I’m gonna spill your intestines on the ground like a gutted pig.”</p><p>Ichigo’s hands clenched. He should tell Grimmjow to fuck off. He should, at least, feel intimidated. But a burning itch grew inside his chest at the sight of the arrancar’s hot bright blue eyes.</p><p>Dammit. He couldn’t fight him now, even though the training bunker was right below their feet. He’d have to wait until Grimmjow got better. Maybe he <em>should</em> bring him to his house. Where else was he gonna go? Not Hueco Mundo.</p><p>“Throw them in the bunker, Kisuke,” Yoruichi advised. “I'm getting the feeling they need some time alone.”</p><p>“They’ve been in the bunker every other week. I would suggest a change of scenery. That <em>is</em> why you’re here,” Urahara said, “right, Grimmjow-san? A change of scenery?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be in this situation if I had the goddamn choice."</p><p>“Look," Ichigo interrupted, "if you still wanna fight me, gut me, <em>whatever</em>, then stop bitching about being stuck here.” In the back of his mind, he still wondered <em>who</em> in Hueco Mundo was out to get Grimmjow. Did he have a falling out with Tier Harribel? Last he checked, Harribel wasn't one to chew into her subordinates for no good reason. “Stay here, get better, and then you and I will take it from there.” He gave Grimmjow a tight smile.</p><p>“Seconded,” chimed Yoruichi.</p><p>Urahara snapped his fan shut. “It’s settled then. Grimmjow-san, we’re shifting you over to Kurosaki-san’s house for the moment. Try not to have too much fun. And remember to come in tomorrow for your blood test.”</p><p><em>Try not to have too much fun.</em> Something in Ichigo's stomach dropped. He imagined Grimmjow standing in his living room, in his kitchen. In his bedroom. Oh, man. “Actually, Kisuke," he said quickly, "maybe he should stay with—”</p><p>Grimmjow grabbed his arm. Ichigo made a soft surprised sound. "You ain't getting cold feet, Kurosaki," he said with a razor-sharp grin. "You said I should stay here, so I will. We gonna go to your house or not?" </p><p>Fuck. Now he'd made it into a challenge. </p><p>Ichigo didn't know what possessed him. Maybe it was the sudden closeness, or the feral way that Grimmjow was looking at him. Maybe it was because Grimmjow always drove him crazy and he ended up blindly following the adenaline shooting through his veins. </p><p>"Fine," he found himself saying. "Let's go to my house."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this, Ichigo thought, trudging down the gravelly sidewalk toward his house.</p><p>Ten feet above his head, Grimmjow slouched as he walked, hands jammed into his pockets. When he looked up, he saw the flashing soles of the arrancar’s leather shoes. With a grimace, Ichigo told himself to suck it up and deal. Orihime would be back in a couple days, so the cohabitation wasn't going to be that long. And Grimmjow wasn’t the same psycho bastard he’d fought in the sands of Hueco Mundo. The hellish fixation on spilling his blood had mellowed into something slightly more sporting. Their relationship now reminded him a little bit of how he and Renji had started out during the bid to rescue Rukia from Soul Society all those years ago. </p><p>Once they reached his house, Grimmjow leapt down to the ground, hands still in his pockets, scuffing his heels on the asphalt driveway. With his bright blue hair and cropped white jacket, he looked totally out of place on the sunlit suburban street. “Remember the rules,” Ichigo said. “My sisters are off-limits. You try anything funny—hell, you even <em>look</em> at them or try to talk to them, and I'll kill you with my bare hands."</p><p>Maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to say to someone who was constantly trying to squeeze a fight out of him, Ichigo thought. A wide grin sprouted on the arrancar’s face, and he stepped forward and pressed his forehead into Ichigo’s. His eyes had grown scarily wide, and the vacant blueness seemed to swallow Ichigo whole. “I’m not interested in anyone but you, Kurosaki.”</p><p>Ichigo blinked. “Okay,” he said, realizing belatedly that he sounded pretty fucking baffled. Grimmjow smirked and walked to the front door.</p><p>Rubbing his forehead underneath his bangs, Ichigo followed.</p><p>Inside the house, Grimmjow’s shoulders hunched and his cocky expression melted into something more disgruntled. Ichigo toed off his tennis shoes and swiped beads of perspiration off his forehead. His dad hadn’t gotten around to fixing the shit AC, and the way Grimmjow’s side was pressed against his bare arm made the hot, sweaty, itchiness feel worse, somehow.</p><p>“Dad! Yuzu! Karin!” he shouted.</p><p>His dad and Yuzu ambled into the hall, followed closely by Karin, who had a beat-up soccer ball tucked under her arm. Isshin’s bushy eyebrows rose to his jagged hairline when he saw Grimmjow standing next to his son, and Ichigo knew he was in for it when his dad’s face split into a wide smile. “Ichigo,” Isshin said with fake joviality, “you didn’t tell us you were bringing a young man home for dinner tonight. I would have put pants on!” He motioned to his very bare, very hairy legs, and Ichigo bristled. However, before he could do something drastic, like drop kick his dumbass father into the stratosphere, Grimmjow spoke up.</p><p>“Don't assume, old man. My name is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I am Kurosaki's sworn enemy.”</p><p>"I see," Isshin said, looking from him to Ichigo. "My point still stands."</p><p>“<em>This</em> is Grimmjow?” Karin said, openly staring. “Jeez, nii-san. Now I get why you miss dinner every Thursday night.”</p><p>“What did he bring home? What is a Grimmjow?” Yuzu asked. </p><p>Grimmjow shifted against Ichigo’s side. “Kurosaki, I’m goin’ to your room. I don’t feel like entertaining the peanut gallery.” Without breaking eye-contact with his dad, Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow’s wrist and held on tight. Like hell he was going anywhere.</p><p>“Karin, I can't see it,” whispered Yuzu.</p><p>“You don’t need to see him, honey,” Isshin said, curling a protective arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Ichigo, pray tell, what is one of Aizen’s deadliest espada doing in our home?”</p><p>“He’s staying here for the weekend,” Ichigo said. “Kisuke kicked him out.”</p><p>"Fuck this," Grimmjow muttered, "I'm headin' back to Hueco Mundo."</p><p>"<em>No</em>." Ichigo's fingers squeezed the hard tendons of Grimmjow's wrist, knowing he wouldn't be able to restrain the arrancar if he really wanted to leave. But Grimmjow fell into a wary silence and leaned into the space between Ichigo and the door, the sleeve of his white jacket sticking uncomfortably to the back of Ichigo's sweaty arm.</p><p>“I still don’t know what he looks like,” Yuzu said with a pout.</p><p>“He’s...he’s practically a mummy,” Karin said, though it was very clear she wanted to say something else. “Nii-san, did you beat him up?”</p><p>“It wasn’t me.”</p><p>"How did you recieve those injuries?" Isshin asked slowly. </p><p>"I don't owe you answers, old man." Grimmjow banged into Ichigo's shoulder, growling, “I’m goin’ up to your room.” He snapped his teeth at Karin as he went, probably because she was staring at him. “Move over, brat.”</p><p>“Dick,” Karin shot right back.</p><p>Grimmjow gave her the finger. <em>Her</em>. A sixteen-year-old girl! Ichigo was going to kill him.</p><p>“Fuck with my big brother and I’ll stomp your face in with my cleats,” Karin shouted up the stairwell. Grimmjow's response was another rude hand gesture thrown over his shoulder.</p><p>“Ichigo, one moment,” Isshin said before he could follow Grimmjow up the stairs. Ichigo spun around on the middle step.</p><p>“Don’t start, Dad. You saw the bandages. Whoever did that to him injected him with some kind of anti-regeneration drug, so he isn’t going to… he’s practically harmless.”</p><p>“Practically harmless,” Isshin repeated, his eyes climbing to heaven. “<em>Practically harmless.</em> My dearest Masaki, our firstborn is a dumbass. He has forsaken everything I have ever taught him and succumbed to his hormones—“</p><p>“Dad, shut up. You aren’t helping." Karin crossed her arms over her dirty soccer ball. "Why did Urahara-san kick him out?” </p><p>Trust Karin to ask all the important questions.</p><p>“I don’t think Yoruichi wants him there. She was bitching about him sleeping in her room." Ichigo shrugged. "Beats me. He always stays with Kisuke whenever he visits the Living World on official Las Noches business, so I don’t know what’s going on now. They were sure keen as hell to shove him onto me, though.”</p><p>”This probably isn’t official Las Nachos business."</p><p>Ichigo didn't bother to correct her pronunciation. “Probably not, since someone there tried to grind his organs into pudding.” He couldn’t imagine who it could have been apart from Tier Harribel. Or...</p><p>Nel.</p><p>Nel was the only other arrancar who could defeat Grimmjow at one-to-one combat. But why would peaceable and non-combative Nel want to slice Grimmjow into shreds?</p><p>“Ichigo, you know I don’t care about what you and your friend do outside of the house, but two young girls live here.”</p><p>“Dad, all I do <em>outside of the</em> <em>house</em> is try to take Grimmjow’s stupid blue head off in the training bunker—“</p><p>“Didn’t you have the decency to think about your baby sisters before bringing him home?”</p><p>Ichigo threw up his arms. “It wasn’t my idea! It was Kisuke’s stupid idea! And Yoruichi’s! Go take it up with them. And put on a pair of fucking pants while you’re at it.”</p><p>”Masaki," Isshin wailed, "our son is so cruel to me! Always breaking daddy’s heart!”</p><p>“It’s okay, Dad,” Karin said decisively, “sounds like the hollow’ll be easy to kill as long as he’s drugged up.”</p><p>“<em>What?</em> Karin, no—"</p><p>”Yuzu, you up for some hollow target practice?” Karin asked with relish. “If we get him once, he ain’t gonna get back up.”</p><p>”<em>No</em>,” Ichigo exclaimed, stumbling down a step, “you can’t hurt him—“</p><p>“We won’t do anything to Ichi-nii’s friend, not unless he does something unforgivable to us," Yuzu said. "Ichi-nii, is he sleeping in your room tonight?”</p><p>Three pairs of eyes fixed on Ichigo.</p><p>Ichigo sweated, suddenly put on the spot.</p><p>
  <em>In my room?</em>
</p><p>Back at Urahara’s, he hadn’t considered the specifics of the sleeping arrangement. They didn’t have a guest bedroom in their house. Even Rukia had squeezed in with the girls the last time she’d visited. And it wasn’t like he could let Grimmjow out of his sight. He blew out his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess he’ll have to.” What a fucking trip, he thought. He was gonna have to sleep with one eye open like a goddamn giraffe. Kisuke Urahara owed him one. A <em>big</em> one.</p><p>On cue, Kon’s high-pitched whine came from the upstairs landing. It seemed Grimmjow had located his bedroom and was terrorizing the mod soul. “One sec,” Ichigo told his family, and dashed up the stairs. He entered his bedroom to see Grimmjow shaking Kon in one hand like a can of soda.</p><p>“Ichigo, help! The monster’s trying to kill me!”</p><p>“What you fuckin’ call me, you little shitstain?” Grimmjow growled down at the plush animal.</p><p>“Stop! Stop! My candy’s gonna fall out!”</p><p>“Cut it out,” Ichigo said when Grimmjow threw Kon on the ground with the clear intention of stepping on him. “He mouths off to everyone. Don’t take it personally.”</p><p>“You know what, Ichigo? You handle your psycho hollow boyfriend alone. I’m outta here!” Before Grimmjow’s leather-clad foot could fall on his plush head, Kon scurried out of the room.</p><p>Fighting the urge to punch the nearest object—either the desk chair or the wardrobe door—Ichigo shoved his fists into his pockets and slouched a little. “Listen, do me a favor and ignore everyone in this house. No one here is sane. Except maybe my sister Yuzu, but she can go pretty pig wild when she wants to.“</p><p>“That's the second time someone's mistaken me for one of your paramours, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said in a low voice, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Ichigo's gut twisted. </p><p>“I don’t have— <em>paramours</em>. What the fuck, Grimmjow. Where did you even learn that word? My dad was being an asshole earlier. And Kon...Kon’s mad at me because you were manhandling him, and he doesn't like being touched by anyone who doesn't have massive tits.” Ichigo wrinkled his nose. “Or it might be ‘cause you smell like ass. Go wash off. The bathroom’s in the hall.”</p><p>“I’ll pass.”</p><p>There was a smear of crusted grime across his cheek that was the same color as his eye markings. Gross. No way was Ichigo sleeping in the same room as someone who was gonna have flies buzzing around him soon. “Take a fucking shower. My dad’s probably gonna make you come to dinner, so you better be clean before then.”</p><p>He could always force Grimmjow into their half-bath. Muscle him into the tub, turn the water on, and lock the bathroom door. What was he even gonna do? Fight him with that busted arm?</p><p>“Inviting me in, telling me to shower. Offering me food from your table. You’re placing a lot of trust in me, shinigami.”</p><p>“I’m trusting that you won’t put a foot out of line,” Ichigo responded.</p><p>“Do you trust me not to snap your frail human neck?”</p><p>Ichigo stepped forward and bumped his forehead into Grimmjow’s, a parody of his action from before. “You won’t get your fight if you kill me." </p><p>Grimmjow’s mouth curved into a mocking smile and he pushed on Ichigo's forehead with his own. Feather-light blue hairs tickled the bridge of Ichigo's nose. “On the contrary," Grimmjow breathed, "you’ll be made into a shinigami permanently. Those sanctimonious berks up in Soul Society must be waiting with bated breath for your demise. Probably gonna make you a captain as soon as you shed your mortal coil.”</p><p>At that, Ichigo took a step back, stomach knotting up. Grimmjow had a point.</p><p>But he wouldn’t try to kill him… would he?</p><p>He’d left his shinigami badge somewhere in his shorts from yesterday.</p><p>But Grimmjow made no move to attack him. As they looked at each other, a warm breeze blew through the open window, lifting the hem of his white jacket and the scraps of straggly blue hair curling at the base of his neck.</p><p>Ichigo wetted his lips. “Or... if you kill me, I might go berserk and turn into a hollow.”</p><p>Grimmjow showed him all his teeth. “Guess I’ll have to eat you then.”</p><p>Ichigo winced. Gross. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, asshole, I trust that you won’t break my neck, but that’s the extent my trust goes. I’m always gonna have one eye on you while you’re in my house.”</p><p>Something unpleasant was rocking back and forth in Ichigo’s chest. He wanted to chalk it up to Grimmjow casually bringing up ghost cannibalism, but he thought it had more to do with that uncomfortable question of <em>after</em>.</p><p>A lifetime later, when Ichigo finally went to Soul Society, he would be welcomed into the ranks of the gotei thirteen. No doubt about that. But...that meant he wouldn't be able to see Grimmjow anymore. Central forty-six would never allow an arrancar of Grimmjow's strength and destructive power to pass through the senkaimon. The thought didn't sit right with Ichigo. He wasn't sure how he felt about going to Soul Society if their laws prevented him from meeting Grimmjow ever again.</p><p>As he mulled over his thoughts, Grimmjow watched him intently, head cocked at an angle. When their eyes met, the curve of his mouth tensed into a small smile. “You can’t blame me for wanting a piece of it, Kurosaki. You’re all…” He reached out and pinched his side, right above his hip bone. “Plump.”</p><p>“Plump?” Ichigo spluttered, suddenly offended. He slapped away Grimmjow’s cold hand and yanked the bottom of his t-shirt to his chin. “Look at this! You callin’ this fat?”</p><p>Blue eyes darted down his chest and stomach. </p><p>“Ichi-nii, what are you doing?”</p><p>Startled by his sister’s voice, Ichigo dropped his shirt. Yuzu stood at the bedroom door, her blond head nearly hidden behind a tall stack of folded white towels. “Nothing, Yuzu. What are all those for?”</p><p>“I brought them for your friend, since you said he’s staying here with you. Um.” She squinted in the general vicinity of Grimmjow’s midriff. “Grimmjow-san, please let me know if you need anything else.”</p><p>“Okay,” Grimmjow said, voice flat.</p><p>“Give it here, Yuzu.” Ichigo took the stuff out of her arms. “Thanks for the towels. I'm trying to get <em>someone</em> to take a shower." He cut Grimmjow a pointed look. </p><p>His sister wrinkled her nose. "You should shower, Ichi-nii."</p><p>"Do I smell?" Ichigo lifted his arm and took a sniff. "Eugh. Okay."</p><p>“By the way, Dad says to take the spare futon in the pantry downstairs. He recommends airing it out before you use it. It smells a bit like mothballs.”</p><p>“Cool. I’ll come get it in a bit.” He shepherded his sister out of the room and closed the door. He still had misgivings about leaving Grimmjow unsupervised, but his pits smelled pretty fucking devastating. That ultra-strength deodorant he’d put on in the morning must have disintegrated in the heat. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Don’t talk to my sisters while I’m gone.”</p><p>“It’s funny you think I’m into teenage girls. Dipshit.”</p><p>For some reason, Ichigo’s mouth twitched. “It’s good that you’re not. Don’t be like my dad.”</p><p>Grimmjow’s face twisted. “The fuck?”</p><p>“I’m gonna go shower,” Ichigo said again. “Stay in my room. Touch anything and I’ll kill you.”</p><p>Right outside his door, he was ambushed by a lurking Karin, who demanded to know if he had bought black nail polish. She wasn’t as miffed as Ichigo thought she would be when he informed her that Yoruichi had stolen it. “Whatever, that’s fine. Just get it back tomorrow,” she said. “You are going back tomorrow, right?”</p><p>“I think so.” Urahara had mentioned something about another blood test. Maybe he could tag along with Grimmjow tomorrow.</p><p>He showered quickly, not letting himself think too deeply about Grimmjow while he was soaping up. He rinsed off, dried himself, and dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt. Upon stepping out of the bathroom, he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Yuzu’s voice.</p><p>It seemed like Yuzu was showing Karin… and Grimmjow… how to make cookies. When Ichigo walked into the kitchen, she was stamping a star-shaped cookie cutter on the baking pan, rattling off something about the consistency of peanut butter while Karin rummaged through the refrigerator. “All it takes is a huge spoon of peanut butter and four other ingredients, all mixed together," she chirped. "And it’s flourless, too, so you can make it when you go back home to wherever you live, Grimmjow-san." She cocked her head toward the door. "Nii-san, you should dry your hair before you catch a cold.”</p><p>Grimmjow was sitting with his shoe up on the sofa, balancing a book in one hand that Ichigo recognized as one of his required readings for Japanese literature. He looked up when Ichigo walked up to him.</p><p>“I thought I told you not to talk to my sisters.”</p><p>Karin emerged from the refrigerator with a chilled bottle of Ramune. “Leave it, nii-san. He’s isn’t doing anything. Kind of disappointing, actually. I thought you said this guy was a maniac."</p><p>Grimmjow snorted.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s been lovely company—right, Karin?” Yuzu, of course, could only see a spectral mass lounging on the couch and a levitating Japanese lit anthology. </p><p>“You guys have no fucking idea,” Ichigo muttered, and then kicked Grimmjow’s dangling ankle. “Come upstairs.”</p><p>“Nah. I’m waiting for the brat’s cookies.” Grimmjow gave him a toothy grin.</p><p>“You aren’t getting any—" Something hard rapped him on the arm. "Ow!”</p><p>Yuzu withdrew her wooden spoon. “Don’t be an ass, Ichi-nii. I'm making these specially for him.”</p><p>“Yuzu, this is”— <em>a former espada, a vicious, cannibalistic hollow</em>—“not someone you should be baking cookies for.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“He’s tried to kill nii-san before,” Karin said.</p><p>Yuzu paused, obviously thinking. “But so has a bunch of people. And Ichi-nii doesn’t invite those people over to his house, so Grimmjow-san must be his friend.”</p><p>Ichigo slanted a look sideways; Grimmjow had rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. “We aren’t friends, Yuzu. Not by a long shot. He’s a bloodthirsty killer with too much time on his hands.”</p><p>Grimmjow lowered his bent leg to the floor. “And here I thought we were getting somewhere,” he drawled. Ichigo <em>had</em> to snort at that, remembering how he'd waxed lyrical about gutting him like a pig at Urahara’s that morning. “Since you’re letting me sleep in your bed,” Grimmjow finished.</p><p>Ichigo's eyes bugged. Karin spat out her Ramune.</p><p>"Nii-san—”</p><p>“He <em>isn’t</em>.” Ichigo’s voice came out horribly twisted. “Stop saying weird shit, asshole."</p><p>Grimmjow shrugged his good shoulder. “I want your bed.”</p><p>“Tough nuts. You’re getting the floor.”</p><p>”Who’s injured here, Kurosaki—you or me?”</p><p>”Doesn’t matter,” Ichigo said irritably. “You’re sleeping on the <em>floor</em>. That’s final.”</p><p>“It’s all right, Grimmjow-san,” Yuzu said, smiling in the direction of the sofa. “You can take the futon upstairs with Ichi-nii. I promise it’s padded. I’ll save you the gooiest cookies once they come out of the oven.” She made a startled noise when Ichigo thumped a fist on her head.</p><p>“The last thing a hollow wants is peanut butter cookies, no matter how tasty they are.” He swung his head toward Grimmjow. “You coming?”</p><p>Ichigo breathed a silent sigh of relief when Grimmjow set the book aside and stood up without further bitching.</p><p>The stairs and the upper floor were cast in shadow, unlike the well-lit living area, and Ichigo felt an prickling feeling at the back of his neck as he climbed the staircase with Grimmjow behind him. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught Grimmjow absently rubbing a smear of dirt on his chin. “Do hollows not like water or something?” Ichigo asked suddenly.</p><p>“Huh?” Grimmjow kicked the bedroom door shut. Ichigo had stuck Pokémon stickers on it when he was in primary school, and the arrancar’s eyes trailed over the stickers, then over to the colorful volumes of manga piled on his desk. Again, Ichigo realized how weird it was to have Grimmjow, ex-sexta espada, chilling in his bedroom. Like he was Keigo or Tatsuki, over for a night of video games. “The fuck you talkin’ about,” Grimmjow drawled. “Hueco Mundo has pools.”</p><p>“Pools,” Ichigo repeated, stupidly imagining a swimming pool inside Las Noches. That's probably not what he meant. “You mean... an oasis?”</p><p>“The fuck is that?”</p><p>“It's water in the desert.”</p><p>He tried to imagine how Grimmjow, Nel, and the other brightly-colored arrancar would look in a lush, tropical setting before abruptly remembering that Hueco Mundo had no green plants. Or sunlight.</p><p>“Harribel’s pussy harem laid claim to those long ago.” Grimmjow looked disgruntled. “Move over,” he said, elbowing Ichigo aside. Ichigo inhaled a strong whiff of rain and mud as he went by.</p><p>“Wait, so you can’t—you don’t bathe anymore?” Ichigo watched him park his ass on the bed. He smoothed a hand down the comforter, and then dropped flat on his back, blue head landing squarely in Ichigo’s pillow. “Hey! Get off! You’re dirty!”</p><p>Grimmjow raised a middle finger.</p><p>Ichigo grabbed his knobby elbow and tried to drag him sideways off the mattress. When that didn’t work, he pressed his knuckles into the center of his bandaged chest. The sutures felt fucking weird, kind of mushy and crumbly. Grimmjow let out a loud snarl and his fist blurred. In hindsight, Ichigo regretted not ducking.</p><p>Grimmjow’s hard knuckles connected with the side of Ichigo’s face, and there was a loud <em>crunch</em>.</p><p>He fell on his ass; there was blood on his hands, the floor, splattered on his t-shirt, dripping into his lap. “You fucking <em>dick</em>. How could you—I’m in my human body!” He felt his nose and moaned. “You broke my nose!”</p><p>Grimmjow’s gaze was flat. “Didn’t know you were this flimsy.”</p><p>Ichigo carefully peeled off his ruined shirt and pressed it to his upper lip. “That should've shattered my jaw,” he said slowly. “You pulled your punch.”</p><p>The arrancar raised an unimpressed blue eyebrow. “You say that like you want me to blast your puny head off your neck.”</p><p>Ichigo’s fingers itched for his badge. “Try it, I dare you. You won’t stand a chance.”</p><p>“Bring it, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow’s eyes glinted, like he was <em>excited</em> at the thought of fighting with a busted arm and slashed up lung. Sicko.</p><p>Giving him a dirty look, Ichigo reached for the laundry bag where he’d tossed his shorts from yesterday. He’d put his badge in the front pocket. Then he stopped. He’d promised Grimmjow a fight once the drug had run its course.</p><p>So why was he giving in now?</p><p>Grimmjow drummed his fingers on the plain blue bedspread, tapping an impatient, almost spastic rhythm. The bunched, clenching jaw muscle and the unfocused quality of his eyes caught Ichigo’s attention. Overwrought, jittery, clearly in pain. <em>Maybe he isn’t used to being in pain for long periods of time</em>. The thought made Ichigo reel his arm back. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m not fighting you until your body accepts healing kido.”</p><p>The look of vague irritation on the arrancar’s face instantly turned into a full-blown sneer. “You think you’re gonna bang me up that bad, Kurosaki? Go on, show me your shinigami form. I can handle it.”</p><p>Ichigo remembered the way his face had seized up when he’d touched his sutures. “Actually, I don’t think you can."</p><p>“What else is there to do here? This place is fucking boring.” </p><p>“There’s plenty to do. Just... no fighting. Not yet. What’d you do when Nnoitra slashed your neck? Didn’t you have to heal for a while?”</p><p>“I was unconscious,” Grimmjow said bluntly.</p><p>“Okay.” Ichigo winced when a sharp arrow-like burst of pain shot into his skull. “Hang on. I'm gonna go fix my nose.”</p><p>Rising on unsteady feet, Ichigo left the bedroom and went down to the first floor, skirting around the kitchen and living room to the entrance of the clinic. Isshin hummed when he saw his son. “I see you have that hollow under control.”</p><p>“I think being cooped up here is driving him insane. Suicidal insane.” He hesitated. “Do you have painkillers?”</p><p>Isshin gave him a sharp look. “<em>Ichigo</em>. Incipient drug habits will not be tolerated under this roof—”</p><p>“It isn’t for me.”</p><p>“Oh. For your hollow friend? I don’t even have reishi pills for shinigami. Don’t really need it if you know kido. Kisuke might have something experimental to give him.” His dad lowered his hands and the orange light disappeared. “You say he was dosed with an anti-hollow drug. Does it block healing spells?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That’s bizarre. I haven't heard of technology like that, from Soul Society or elsewhere.” Isshin scratched his stubbly chin. “Your best bet is to ask Kisuke. He always knows more than he lets on.”</p><p>“Don’t doubt it,” Ichigo muttered.</p><p>This whole situation just seemed off. It wasn’t just that Grimmjow was refusing to tell him who kicked his ass—why was Kisuke just as adamant about hiding the attacker’s identity? Kisuke knew who it was, he was sure of it. Maybe tomorrow, when he visited the shop, he could wring the truth out of him. Or Yoruichi. Something told him that Yoruichi might be more willing to give him a straight answer.</p><p>Ichigo trudged up the stairs, lost in thought, and realized once he’d reached the second floor that the ambient hissing sound he’d been hearing was water running in the bathroom. Ichigo’s eyes went wide. Grimmjow was taking a shower.</p><p>He peeked into his—empty—bedroom, just to check, and then stopped in front of the ajar bathroom door. A haze of hot steam wafted through the crack. He smelled the faint citrus-y scent of his shampoo.</p><p>What. The. Hell.</p><p>Yeah, sure, he’d offered him the bath, but...the idea of Grimmjow actually taking a shower in his tub—the same tub that his <em>sisters</em> showered in—and using his soap and shampoo was just too weird to comprehend. He hadn’t even locked the door.</p><p>Against his better judgment, Ichigo pushed the door open. The air was thick with humidity and the tang of artificial lemon and honey; the mirror he’d stood in front of not thirty minutes ago was fogged with drippy condensation, and the pale green shower curtain was pulled shut and tucked into the tub to prevent water from flooding the bathroom floor. The arrancar's clothes were strewn all over. The black jumpsuit lay unzipped in a slinky pile on the bath mat and his cropped white jacket and belts hung on the towel rack over the damp yellow towel Ichigo had used to dry himself earlier. Ichigo dryly noted the lack of underwear as he started to untangle the belts. He intended to throw all of it—belts included—into the washing machine with a truckload of detergent. Everything he owned smelled like mud and shit. Except...</p><p>Ichigo brought the white jacket to his nose. The velvety black inner lining didn’t smell as bad as the rest of it. He caught the scent of lightning and ozone. And something unfortunately cattish. Did Grimmjow roll around in a litter box in his free time?</p><p>Well. If you thought about it, Hueco Mundo was really just a giant litter box, so maybe that’s where the smell—</p><p>“Oi, Kurosaki,” said Grimmjow’s gravelly voice.</p><p>Ichigo flinched out of his skin. Having noiselessly pulled aside the shower curtain, Grimmjow stood just to the side of the raining showerhead, broad naked shoulders glistening with water. His blue hair hung in wet spikes over his eyes, and he glared at Ichigo with a mix of anger and annoyance. Ichigo’s eyes widened.</p><p>With a harsh squeak, Grimmjow shoved the shower curtain entirely to the side, unashamedly exposing his body from head to ankle. “What are you doing,” he said, voice flat.</p><p>“I was wondering why you smell like Pet Depot.”</p><p>“I mean, why the fuck are you perving on me in the bathroom?</p><p>“Shut up,” Ichigo responded automatically. “I thought I’d do you a favor and launder your clothes.” He held up the reishi-infused jacket. “Or d’you want to stink like dog shit all day tomorrow, too?”</p><p>Grimmjow pushed back his sodden hair with a long-fingered hand. Blue eyes observed Ichigo’s rapidly reddening face. “Fine. Take it and get out,” he said, yanking the curtain shut.</p><p>Ichigo gathered everything in his arms, stepped out of the bathroom, and shut the door.</p><p>And stood there.</p><p>So. Everyone knew that the female espada were well-endowed. Nel had two goddamn beach balls strapped to her chest, and Tier Harribel was just fucking unreal. But what he <em>hadn't</em> known was that it wasn't just the female espada with huge assets gifted by the hogyoku. At the thought, Ichigo shuddered and reflexively dug his nails into Grimmjow’s clothes. If he had been in shinigami form, the action would’ve ripped the fabric in half.</p><p>It wasn’t just a question of Grimmjow’s...assets. Ichigo had to contend with the rest of him, too. His unearthly good looks. Those blue eyes. Ichigo knew firsthand how distracting they could be. Flashing, challenging, dangerous. <em>Exhilarating</em>. In the middle of a fight, Grimmjow looked at him like they were the last two people left alive, and Ichigo never, ever wanted to let that feeling go.</p><p>It was a startling realization, one that made Ichigo feel all shaky like someone had blown a giant hole through his middle. He never dwelled on his... feelings for Grimmjow. They spent most of their time together in a barren, rocky training ground trying to carve each other into tiny pieces of sashimi. It wasn’t exactly the kind of atmosphere that ever led to softer emotions.</p><p>But just now, in the bathroom...</p><p>Ichigo blushed, staring hard at the clothes in his hand. "Ah, fuck," he mumbled.</p><p>A bedroom door slammed. Karin walked into the hallway, swinging a laundry hamper. She stopped abruptly at the sight of her brother. “You look like someone knocked your brains out.”</p><p>Ichigo grimaced. The last thing he needed was his weirdly perceptive little sister figuring out that he was having a crisis. “I'm fine. Can you put these in for me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Come on, I bought you nail polish.”</p><p>“Which you left at Kisuke’s.” She looked skeptically at Grimmjow’s clothes. “Will they wash?”</p><p>Ichigo shrugged. “I dunno. I dunno if he’s ever washed his clothes before.” He dumped it all in her hamper and walked into his bedroom without another word.</p><p>He needed a fucking break. He needed a drink of water.</p><p>No, he needed to punch something. Or someone.</p><p>Preferably Kisuke.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>grimmjow: [pushes back shower curtain] oi, kurosaki</p><p>ichigo's brain: *windows shutdown noise*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once inside his room, Ichigo shut the bedroom door with a little more force than necessary. His heart was still thumping too fast for his liking, and it made him want to drive his fist into someone’s gut. Kisuke, for sure, but he also felt like pummeling Grimmjow. For obvious reasons.</p><p>Kon must've gotten over his earlier hissy-fit, because he was back on Ichigo's bed with a magazine spread open in front of him like a newspaper. Ichigo glanced at the cover; a pair of naked tits stared back at him.</p><p>“Where the hell did you get that magazine?”</p><p>“Your father's beside table.”</p><p>"That's fucking disgusting."</p><p>Kon licked his paw and turned a page. "Why’s your face so red?”</p><p>“It isn’t red,” Ichigo grumbled, rubbing his flushed face. He wasn’t going to tell Kon about the shower incident, since he was sure that the mod soul would call him a peeping tom. Number one, it hadn't been his fucking fault. Just how was he supposed to know that the bastard was going to do that? He had just— pulled the curtain away, as easy as you please. Hadn’t even twitched an eyebrow about it. Either he had <em>intended </em>to give Ichigo an eyeful or he didn’t give a flying fuck if Ichigo saw him flopping around Pantera Junior. </p><p>“You’re getting that look on your face, Ichigo.” Setting the magazine aside, Kon crawled to the edge of the bed and rested his chin on his paws. “Out with it. What did the smurf do now?”</p><p>“He didn’t do anything.” </p><p>“I can’t believe you’re gonna sit there and lie to my face.”</p><p>“I’m not lying.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, more than a little disturbed by the thought of Grimmjow and his… yeah.</p><p>“Hey, nii-san, you in there?” Karin’s sullen voice came from the doorway. Ichigo craned his neck at an awkward angle to catch the blur of his sister’s dark head out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>"What's up?"</p><p>“You owe me a million bucks for making me touch that guy's stuff,” she grouched. “My hands smell like cat shit now.” </p><p>Ichigo sighed. "Did the bloodstains come out, at least?"</p><p>“You’ll have to see. I dumped in detergent and set it to cold.”</p><p>That’s what they did to wash his shihakushou, but Ichigo wasn’t sure if hollow blood would react the same way as his human-shinigami blood. Either way, he’d have to find Grimmjow an extra set of clothes to wear. “I'm pretty sure he got dragged through half of Hueco Mundo last night,” he informed his sister. “Trust me, he doesn’t usually smell that bad.”</p><p>"Doesn’t smell that bad, huh?” Karin leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms. “Speaking of, nii-san, you never told us he looked like <em>that</em>.”</p><p>Ichigo blinked. Like...? Oh, what the hell. She’d been staring at him in the foyer, hadn’t she? Did she have a crush on him? Sure, at first glance, the bastard was attractive, if you were into the blue, sneering, constantly constipated look, but...</p><p>He felt the corners of his mouth tug into a frown. “Stay away from him, Karin. He's bad news." </p><p>"Oh, yeah, total bad news bears," she said mockingly. "I don't see you staying away. You're even letting him sleep in your bedroom."</p><p>"That's because I have to keep an eye—"</p><p>"You think Dad and I can't keep an eye on him?"</p><p>"He's an ex-espada, and he's strong enough to give me a run for my money. Under no circumstances should you try to engage him."</p><p>"Jeez, Ichi-nii, <em>I'm </em>not going to do anything. I don't care that much.”</p><p>“I mean it. He threatened to eat me today.”</p><p>Karin snorted loudly. </p><p>“For the record, I was joking about skewering him,” she said. “But I do need someone to practice on, since Yoruichi-san’s so busy these days."</p><p>Ichigo shook his head. “Ask Dad. I’m shit at kido.”</p><p>“Yeah, but you’re easier to work with than he is. You won’t even have to do anything. I’ll just try to hit you a bunch of times with bolts of lightning.” Karin’s nails tapped on the doorknob. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”</p><p>“I'll be at the Urahara Shop.” <em>Trying to squeeze the truth out of Kisuke’s tight-as-fuck asshole</em>, he thought uncharitably. He’d felt Kisuke’s spiritual pressure in front of his house last night and no one could convince him otherwise.</p><p>“You’ll be gone the entire day? Are you planning to leave the hollow here with Yuzu?”</p><p>He looked at her, surprised. “No, he'll be at the shop, too. I think Kisuke said he wants to monitor his blood pressure or something.” </p><p>“I’m not implying your friend is gonna do anything to her. She just feels strange about it because she can't see him."</p><p>“He isn't my friend," Ichigo said automatically. “And of course he isn’t going to do anything to her. I’ll cut him in half if he touches either of you.”</p><p>Karin was silent for a long moment. "I think you should be nicer to him.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m just saying. You were being pretty rude downstairs."</p><p>"Me? Rude<em>? You</em> were threatening to use him for target practice." Karin waved a hand airily.</p><p>"Yeah, but then he went into the kitchen and started sniffing around the cookie dough. I can’t throw a knife at someone who wants cookies."</p><p>“He wants cookies?" Ichigo was baffled. “He's a hollow, Karin. He doesn't <em>eat</em>.”</p><p>Karin didn’t respond. With a distracted look over her shoulder, she withdrew from the doorway. A moment later, he heard her voice in the hallway, a sharp rise in cadence that was muffled by the walls. The words didn’t seem to be directed at him.</p><p>Frustrated, Ichigo swiveled his chair around.</p><p>“Why does everyone think I’m friends with that raving lunatic? He literally walzted into the house and <em>broke my nose, </em>but Karin and Yuzu are acting like we’re gonna start braiding each other’s hair."</p><p>"Well, you've graduated to sleepovers."</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>“You two are something, Ichigo, and it sure isn’t just friends. Even <em>I </em>can see that.”</p><p>“I’m not surprised Kisuke kicked him out,” he muttered, rubbing the straight line of his nose. “He wants me to give him my bed, too. Ungrateful dick. I should’ve let him go back to Hueco Mundo. If he’s so sure he’ll be fine out there, then why the hell not? Not my business if he turns into some hollow's dinner."</p><p>“You don't really mean that,” said Kon. </p><p>There was a short pause wherein Ichigo realized that Kon was right—he didn’twant Grimmjow to meet an untimely end in the maws of some ugly monster. It'd been bad enough when Nel had dragged him near-lifeless out of the gift ball, blue reiryoku steaming around him like a funeral shroud. “No," he said flatly, "but I <em>will</em> mean it if he tries to sleep in my bed tonight.” </p><p>Kon propped his chin up with one paw. “Look, Ichigo, I’m not supporting this or anything, but you should let him have it for one night. Maybe spending a few hours with his face pressed into your pillow will cure his chronic blue balls. And that monster temper.”</p><p>“What in the world are you talking about?” Kon shrugged expressively. Ichigo slid his ass down the chair cushion until the back of his neck hit the top of the head rest. “On the other hand, we don’t know how long the drug’s gonna last,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I guess it doesn’t matter. One more day, and then Orihime can come to reverse the damage.”</p><p>“You’re inviting Orihime-chan over?” Kon’s voice bubbled over with excitement. </p><p>“Yeah. I still have to text her, though.”</p><p>Between the unexpected trip to Urahara’s that morning and adjusting to Grimmjow's presence in his house, he had totally forgotten to text Orihime about the situation. Even now, he reluctant to send a message; he knew that she and Uryu had been planning the trip to Okinawa for weeks, and though Grimmjow’s situation was pretty dire, Ichigo didn’t think Uryu would appreciate him texting his girlfriend at—he checked the clock—six o’clock in the evening, just as they were settling down to eat at a fancy restaurant, or settling down in bed to—well. Yeah. Ichigo was sure that part of the appeal of a weekend getaway was the cushioned king-size hotel bed. Not that he’d ever gone on vacation with a significant other. He just figured.</p><p>He tucked his chin into his chest to look down at his phone; with a lazy thumb, he tapped in his passcode and went through his messages, trying to find the three-way group chat with Orihime <em>and </em>Uryu, but stopped scrolling when he heard a wet, squelching sound near the door. With a panicked squeal, Kon dived underneath his titty mag. Ichigo swiveled around to see Grimmjow—naked, save for a yellow towel wrapped around his hollow hole and a sling supporting his right arm—saunter to the center of the room. He left a trail of puddling footprints on the hardwood floor.</p><p>“You’re dripping...” Ichigo started, but the words stuck in his throat when he recognized the towel. “Hey, that's mine!" he yelped. "I wiped my ass with that!”</p><p>Grimmjow shrugged the shoulder that was strapped with the sling. "Did you? Smelled normal on the rack."</p><p>Well, maybe he hadn't wiped his <em>ass crack</em> with it, but he'd definitely rubbed it over his junk a few times. "Let me find you some clothes," he said quickly. </p><p>Grimmjow’s eyes swung up to meet his. “Your clothes, Kurosaki?”</p><p>“I mean, yeah.” He regarded the arrancar from hip to ankle, wondering if he could fit into his jeans. Probably not. “Or I could get my dad’s stuff. He’s closer to your size.”</p><p>Grimmjow’s wispy blue brows furrowed. “No, give me yours.” </p><p>Ichigo frowned. “It doesn’t matter—”</p><p>“It does," Grimmjow rumbled. "Got a whiff of your old man earlier. Smelled like Urahara's garbage disposal.”</p><p>Ichigo couldn't argue with him on that one. “Yeah, that’s what happens when Yuzu makes black bean soup.” He padded over to the open closet and began to rifle through the hangers, searching for a suitable shirt. “Didn’t think you had a sensitive nose, Mister-I-Smell-Like-Cat-Food.”</p><p>“Blame Shihouin for that stench,” Grimmjow snarled. “That bitch wolfs down that stinking tuna pudding shit by the pound.”</p><p>So it was Yoruichi’s fault? “She smear it on your jumpsuit or something?” he asked casually.</p><p>There was a short pause, then Grimmjow drawled, “Had to sleep in her futon last night.”</p><p>Ichigo’s hands—and heart—froze. Her <em>futon?</em> Did he sleep in the same room as her?</p><p>Did he <em>sleep</em> with her?</p><p>Wait, wait, wait. Just what the hell was he thinking? Grimmjow and Yoruichi got along just about as well as two excessively territorial tomcats. There wasn’t anything going on between them, he'd stake his shinigami powers on it. Besides, Grimmjow had been at her throat this morning. Shitty cat, and all that.</p><p>Ignoring the unpleasant feeling in his stomach, Ichigo chose a pair of gray sweatpants and tossed it to the arrancar. “See if that fits.” When Grimmjow reached out, his features crunched into a pained grimace. His arm dropped to curl over his left pectoral. The skin around his stitches was reddish-pink and puffy. “Are you—" Ichigo bit his lip, not wanting to sound too concerned. "Why'd you take your dressings off?”</p><p>Grimmjow sneered. “What else was I supposed to do? Shower with them on?"</p><p>“I'm saying that your wound looks a little inflamed.” He nodded to the row of silver sutures. “You’re going straight to my dad or Ryuken if that starts looking any worse. They're both doctors, but Ryuken might know some special healing art that my dad doesn't. It could bypass the drug in your system.”</p><p>“Who the fuck is Ryuken?” </p><p>“Uryu’s father.” Ichigo ripped a faded orange shirt off its hanger and stretched it out to check the breadth of the shoulders. </p><p>“Dunno who that is.”</p><p>“My friend. The quincy. You’ve met him.”</p><p>He knew for a fact that Grimmjow had encountered Uryu at Urahara’s New Year’s party last year. Ichigo had gotten drunk on a bottle of Yoruichi’s strongest dragon’s-blood sake and...</p><p><em>Spent the night under the kotatsu with him, </em>he thought. What a weird time to be remembering that night. Kisuke had invited everyone under the sun to that party, so the apartment had been a buzz of sound and color; he and Grimmjow had somehow ended up on adjoining cushions, their legs pressed together under the kotatsu blanket, knee to thigh, slips of fleeting warmth between the free-flowing alcohol and Nel and Orihime’s amiable chatter. Grimmjow hadn't mentioned it, so neither had he, and the night had progressed as planned. Later on, Kisuke had hunkered down between them to gossip about Nel’s missions to the Seireitei, his green yukata gaping open over Yoruichi’s lacy purple bra. He’d stuck his hairy legs right between theirs. </p><p>“Yeah, I remember. Glasses. Kept acting like your mother.”</p><p>Ichigo’s mouth twitched. Uryu had spent most of New Year’s Eve trying—and failing—to separate him and Orihime from the sake. “Yeah. That’s the one. Ryuken is a quincy and a doctor, so he might know how to heal you with some weird mumbo-jumbo. Or he might kill you. Hard to predict what he’ll do.” </p><p>He passed over the orange shirt, which had the word <em>Champion </em>printed across the chest in sporty cursive font. A relic from the time he played basketball in high school. Grimmjow pressed his nose into the fabric and sniffed it, nostrils flaring, and then slung it over his shoulder. “I’d rather go to Las Noches,” he said flatly, unknotting his towel. “I got unfinished business with the lot of them.” He tossed Ichigo's towel onto the floor with a heavy <em>whump</em>. Behind them, Kon let out a shriek. </p><p>“Did <em>not </em>sign up for this, Ichigo! You owe me compensation in the form of titties! <em>Female </em>titties!”</p><p>“Shut up, mutt.” There was some rustling. It sounded like Grimmjow was shoving his legs into the sweatpants. Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck.</p><p>“You gonna tell me who they are?”</p><p>“No.” Grimmjow sounded irritated. “Why do you keep asking? You worrying again?”</p><p>Ichigo ground his teeth together. “I'm not <em>worrying</em>. I’m surprised there’s someone more powerful than you in Las Noches. Apart from Harribel and Nel, I mean.”</p><p>“They aren’t more powerful than me, dumbass. Those cunts blow-darted me.”</p><p>“<em>What— </em>”</p><p>“Yeah. A few seconds after the injection, I saw fucking double of everything. My depth perception was shot. Couldn’t talk right.” </p><p>Ichigo frowned at the inside of the closet. “Did you provoke them?”</p><p>“You think I started it.” Grimmjow’s voice was flat.</p><p>“Well, yeah. You usually start things.” A seed of doubt flared in Ichigo’s belly. “Did you? Did you start shit or did they?”</p><p>“Believe what you want to, shinigami.” </p><p>Figuring it was safe to look, Ichigo turned around. Grimmjow was facing the bed, mopping his wet hair with the orange shirt. As predicted, the sweatpants were too small; they pulled tight over the backs of his thighs and stopped above the ankle. Was he really that much shorter than him? He didn’t <em>feel</em> short. “My shirt isn’t a towel,” he said loudly, and wasn't the least bit surprised when Grimmjow ignored him and continued to scrub his scalp vigorously with the bunched-up orange fabric, his damp blue tendrils flying this way and that. Ichigo folded his arms. “Why did they attack you? What did you do?”</p><p>“It ain’t your business, shinigami.”</p><p>Ichigo felt his mouth twist. “Don’t call me that.” </p><p>“Shinigami? That’s what ya are.”</p><p>“Not anymore. The wars are over.” He hesitated. “And I won’t be one again. At least, not until I go to Soul Society."</p><p>Grimmjow grunted. “That ain’t for a while, Kurosaki.” Ichigo stared at him. “What’s that look for?”</p><p>“I thought you wanted me dead.”</p><p>“Nah. Won’t be able to fight you anymore if you get caught up in useless shinigami politics.”</p><p>Ichigo cleared his throat. “Yeah. I guess.”</p><p>Why was this going-to-Soul-Society shit getting to him? It shouldn't matter if Grimmjow wanted him around or not. Grimmjow was nothing to him, neither friend nor enemy, and in a few short years, the blue-haired asshole would get tired of fighting him and fuck off to Las Noches permanently. </p><p>“You think I'd want you dead?” Grimmjow tossed the shirt onto the bed and stalked toward Ichigo with a gleam in his eyes. “Sure, your squishy little human body is inconvenient, but…” He squeezed Ichigo’s side again, the fleshy part right above the hip bone. “You still have your shinigami form. That’s good enough for me. As long as you got that little wooden token thing, we're set, you 'n me.” </p><p>“You’re not seeing my shinigami form until you’re fully healed.”</p><p>“I can think of something we can do to pass the time.” Grimmjow grinned wide, stepping closer. The two fingers pinching him turned into a large hand resting on his hip. Over Grimmjow's shoulder, Kon watched them like they'd both grown three heads.</p><p>“And what's that?” Ichigo said through clenched teeth. </p><p>“You, me. Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons, and you stay in your human body,” Grimmjow said, his eyes dark and glittering. “How about it?”</p><p>“You want to <em>fistfight?</em>”</p><p>“Don’t do it, Ichigo!” Kon wailed.</p><p>“Shut up,” Grimmjow snapped over his shoulder. The mod soul shrank behind the pillows. “Kurosaki,” he said, returning his attention to Ichigo, “your human body isn’t weak. Weren’t you just showing me today?” He tugged on the bottom of Ichigo’s loose t-shirt, his knuckles barely brushing the zipper of his jeans. Grimacing, Ichigo pushed back on the damp crook of his elbow, afraid that he was going to try something funny—like tug his shirt up. Kon would <em>definitely</em> take that the wrong way.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m strong for a human, but it’s still a bad idea. You saw for yourself, you broke my nose with a single punch—</p><p>“That’s because ya didn’t dodge.”</p><p>Ichigo ground his molars so hard that he felt like his head was going to explode. “That isn’t the <em>point</em>, moron. The point is that you can <em>easily </em>kill me with one blow. You know that punch you threw at me? If you’d angled it differently, aimed here, instead”—he tapped the hard orbital bone under his eye—“you would’ve sent a shard of bone flying right into my brain. I’d have died on the spot.”</p><p>“Dead, huh?' Grimmjow murmured. "Humans are too fuckin' soft."</p><p>“It isn’t just that. You don’t know when to pack in your strength,” Ichigo said, disgruntled. Without any explainable reason, Grimmjow’s hand lifted and settled in the curve of Ichigo's neck, his gentle touch at odds with the vicious memories playing on loop in Ichigo’s mind. “Remember that time we fought in the woods last winter?" he added. "You nearly killed me, and I was in shinigami form back then.”</p><p>“Crushed your neck like peanut shells,” Grimmjow said in a low voice. </p><p>Ichigo belatedly realized that he was massaging blunt fingertips into that same vulnerable spot in the back of his neck, between the nubs of delicate vertebrae. With a partially repressed shudder, Ichigo knocked his hand away. What would happen if Grimmjow pulled one of those moves while he was in his human body? All it took was one misstep on his part or one uncalculated blow from the arrancar’s end, and boom. Welcome to the paraplegic life. </p><p>Grimmjow seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts, because his eyeballs rolled up. "I won't <em>kill </em>you. Rough you up, maybe. Whatever I can manage with this fucked up arm.”</p><p>Ichigo shook his head. “Can't risk it.” He took an involuntary step back as Grimmjow braced his forearm against the top of the closet door above his head. The overpowering scent of citrus wafted off his skin; Ichigo wondered if he'd used his shampoo as a body wash.</p><p>“Tell you what, Kurosaki, if you fight me, I’ll give my word not to maim you." He cocked his head. "And if you <em>beat </em>me, I’ll tell you everything ya wanna know.”</p><p>Ichigo licked his lips. “Everything?”</p><p>“Everything. I’ll tell you who did it.” Grimmjow’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “I’ll even tell you <em>why </em>they did it.” </p><p>That was...tempting. He wanted to fight. God, he’d been itching for an excuse to put his hands on the bastard since that morning.</p><p>“What do you say, Kurosaki?”</p><p>Gritting his teeth, he placed a hand on Grimmjow’s scarred chest and shoved him back.</p><p>“Fine. Let’s do it.” </p><p>“Ichigo, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Kon cried. “You might be seriously injured!” Neither Ichigo nor Grimmjow seemed to hear him. Grimmjow’s mouth had split into a sharp grin. Ichigo felt an answering smirk tug the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“You better pull your punches,” he said, raising loosely fisted hands. “Don’t wanna end up with a broken nose again.”</p><p>“Then dodge this time,” Grimmjow said, taking a catlike swipe at his chest.</p><p>Oh, it was <em>on</em>.</p><hr/><p>Sweat dripped from Ichigo's brow. The back of his right hand was bruised purple and blue. </p><p>He'd tried his best to target the arrancar's weak spots, but leaving a mark on him was nigh impossible in a human body. He couldn’t move offensively, couldn’t risk putting his weight into a punch or a kick. His espada-class hierro was tough enough to repel his <em>bankai</em>, for Pete’s sake, so what good were Ichigo’s fragile knuckles and toes? His bones would shatter like porcelain on cement.</p><p>Sure, Grimmjow was working with two major handicaps—decreased range of left-sided motion due to his chest wound and a busted right arm—but it still felt a bit like a cat playing with a mouse.</p><p>Grimmjow circled him around the bedroom. "You afraid, shinigami?" he mocked. "Why aren't ya comin' at me?"</p><p>"Oh, fuck you," Ichigo panted, aiming a punch at the arrancar’s face for the heck of it. His fist soared harmlessly past his ear. </p><p>With a wolfish grin, Grimmjow blurred, and then materialized in front of Ichigo, his left arm pulled back. </p><p>This time, Ichigo didn't move out of the way.</p><p>He’d taken judo lessons in junior high, and since he’d been pretty runty back then, all the older boys had singled him out to beat up during practice. It was Tatsuki who had shown him how to use his opponents’ bulk to his advantage. The trick was that large people, especially someone with Grimmjow’s height and muscle mass, couldn’t slow their momentum once they threw all their weight behind an attack. </p><p>In short, he couldn’t use offensive maneuvers, but he <em>could </em>use Grimmjow’s strength against him.</p><p>He caught Grimmjow’s strong wrist with both hands. A yank, a twist of his own hips, and he used the arrancar’s momentum to flip him onto the floor. As Grimmjow’s back slammed into the floor, Ichigo went down with him, digging his knees into his ribs. He gripped damp blue hair and slammed his head into the hardwood, hoping to stun him long enough to tap out a wrestling countdown. On fight nights, they kept going until one of them couldn’t stand up, but he was hoping that wouldn’t be the end result in this case.</p><p>Grimmjow pushed his palm into Ichigo’s face, forcing his chin up, attempting to overbalance him. With a growl, Ichigo rocked his hips forward, batting the arm away. Pinning his wrist to the floor, Ichigo pulled his other fist back, aiming for the unmasked side of his face.</p><p>The arrancar’s grin grew wide and sharp, one corner of his mouth hitching right up to expose a pointed canine.</p><p>“Got you."</p><p>In a flash, the world tilted, and Ichigo’s back hit the ground; what seemed like Grimmjow’s entire weight slammed into his chest, crushing the air out his lungs. His good arm flattened across Ichigo’s breastbone, holding him down like a fucking steel beam, and his pale face floated above Ichigo's, sky-blue strands of hair falling around them like a curtain. Ichigo inhaled the sharp scent of rain and citrus and reacted violently at the wrongness of it. <em>His </em>smell—the smell of his house, his shampoo—emanating from Grimmjow’s skin. He pushed Grimmjow’s thick bare shoulders with both hands. “Get off,” he hissed. Grimmjow’s hand slipped down and seized his neck. </p><p>“Give it up, Kurosaki.”</p><p>“No!” Ichigo's throat bobbed against Grimmjow's palm; he plastered his hand on the arrancar's face, partly over his mask, partly his nose and mouth. ”I won’t," he hissed, "not until you tell me why—” </p><p>“I ain’t tellin’ you.” Grimmjow’s fingers crushed the tender flesh around his windpipe. He showed no sign of relenting, like he was really planning to squeeze him until his head popped off like a cork. "Tough fucking luck. I'll never tell ya."</p><p>Ichigo’s fingers scrabbled across a mushy patch of skin below the arrancar's shoulder.<em> An opening?</em> he thought. With clawed fingertips, he tore into the softness.</p><p>Instantly, Grimmjow’s teeth bared in a soundless grimace. He released Ichigo and rocked back onto his feet, curling over the left side of his chest like a traumatized pillbug. Ichigo coughed and held the inflamed base of his throat. Oxygen rushed back into his airways, but it <em>burned</em>. It was like he’d swallowed hot ash. <em>This</em> was why he had wanted to avoid a fight; hadn't wanted to take on Grimmjow, who was bigger than him, stronger than him, and <em>thirsting </em>for his blood—</p><p>There were... dots of blood on the floor. </p><p>Ichigo looked up.</p><p>Grimmjow had sagged with his back against the wall. Watery rivulets of blood ran from his torn stitches down to his muscled midriff and dripped over his hollow hole. Pieces of silver thread stuck out of scar tissue like the crooked bristles of a hairbrush. He glared down at his chest with muted fury, his hand hovering above the wound as if he was terrified to touch it. “You son of a <em>bitch</em>, Kurosaki."</p><p>“I—I didn’t mean to do that," Ichigo said helplessly.</p><p>“Like fuck you didn’t.” To Ichigo’s horror, Grimmjow let out a harsh laugh. “I’m impressed. Wasn’t expecting this from a weakling human.”</p><p>“No, I really didn’t mean to—fuck, man. I really had no idea." Ichigo took a step forward. "Let me take a look at it." </p><p>“Come any closer and I'll break your fuckin' hands.”</p><p>“You're kidding, right?” The wound kind of resembled the special-effects gash Ichigo had let Yuzu paint on his face for Halloween last year. With Urahara and Tessai’s handiwork well and truly ruined, he saw the fibrous edges of torn muscle and the black-red gangrenation of the skin around the cut. Whoever attacked him had stabbed right into the pleurae of his lungs; no <em>wonder</em> he was in so much pain. "Come on, fight's over. I‘ll patch you up in the clinic."</p><p>“Fuck off,” Grimmjow said tightly. “You aren’t gettin’ anything outta me.”</p><p>It took Ichigo a second to realize what he was talking about.</p><p>“<em>That's</em> what you're worried about? It's fine, I don't give a crap about your stupid secrets. Keep it to yourself." Ichigo stepped closer, right into Grimmjow’s space, and reached for his hand. With a snarl, Grimmjow slammed his foot into Ichigo's stomach. He stumbled back, stunned but not too stunned, since he was used to being kicked like that by the deliquents at his high school. "Hey, asshole, do you <em>want</em> your lung to rot out?" He snatched up Grimmjow's ice-cold hand and crushed his fingers together. "Why can't you get it through your fucking thick head that we'll have no way to heal you if it gets that bad?"</p><p>Grimmjow hooked one of his feet around Ichigo’s ankle, clearly intending to sweep his foot from out under him. With a curse, Ichigo stabilized by jerking his body forward. His forearms flew out to brace the wall on either side of Grimmjow’s shoulders, catching himself before he could slam into Grimmjow with his full weight. His forehead still banged into Grimmjow’s and the arrancar let out a soft grunt of pain when Ichigo’s chest bumped his wound. Ichigo didn’t move away, too stunned by the sudden warmth against his face and the familiar shampoo in his nostrils. </p><p>It took an embarrassingly long moment for Ichigo's brain to kick back into gear. “We should go to the clinic,” he said, stepping back. A sharp tug on his shirt stopped him. Grimmjow had fisted a large white hand into his shirt. Mouth suddenly dry, he looked into Grimmjow’s intense blue eyes and felt like a bug pinned by a thumb tack. “What the hell?” he said hoarsely, shifting his weight back. "Let me go."</p><p>In response, Grimmjow pulled sharply on his shirt. Feeling like his brain had been stuffed with cotton, Ichigo yielded to the pressure, pressing his palms into the wall on either side of the blue head, resolutely flattening Grimmjow’s body into the wall until they were pressed snugly from hip to collarbone. Something liquid hot and trembly unfurled deep inside him, the warmth shooting right down to his groin. He didn't pause to think, <em>What am I doing? </em>No, it didn't matter; nothing mattered, as long as he had Grimmjow in his arms like this.</p><p>He wouldn't go back to Las Noches. Wouldn't get hurt again.</p><p>“Kurosaki.” Grimmjow said his name on a startled exhale. Ichigo looked at Grimmjow’s mouth, blooming red-purple around the edges from the punch he’d been too slow to dodge. He slid his right hand along the wall until it rested next to the arrancar’s left ear, his wrist grazing damp blue locks, and tilted his head up until Grimmjow's cold nose bumped into his.</p><p>Grimmjow’s eyes widened, a ring of pure white surrounding the cerulean.</p><p>“Kurosaki, you—”</p><p>The door beside them swung open. “Nii-san, it's dinnertime!” </p><p>In an instant, the masked side of Grimmjow's face rammed into Ichigo’s jaw. </p><p>
  <em>CRACK!</em>
</p><p>With a shout, Ichigo sank to his knees, holding the lower half of his face with both hands. Blood dripped down his chin and into his cupped palm. He felt like someone had replaced his guts with a bowl of wobbling jelly.</p><p>"I win, Kurosaki."</p><p>Blinking away hot tears, he twisted his head to see Grimmjow limp past Karin out the bedroom door. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t acknowledge him. </p><p>Oh, god.</p><p>What... was that?</p><p>What just <em>happened?</em></p><p>“Nii-san, what did you do to him?" Karin demanded. Ichigo winced. Did she see? Did she see them...?</p><p>No, he thought, fighting to get a grip on himself and his wildly pounding heart. Grimmjow had taken the initiative to smash his face in the second Karin had stepped into the room.</p><p>"Nii-san?"</p><p>Trying to speak set off another million jolts of pain in his mouth. "We fought," he said thickly. "His stitches...”</p><p>“Yeah, I saw. God, I <em>told</em> you to be nicer to him.” Karin shook her head. "Get cleaned up. Yuzu's gonna be pissed if you come down to dinner like that."</p><p>As soon as she left, Ichigo spat a mouthful of blood into the waste basket and used the doorknob to haul himself to his feet. He was immediately overcome by a dizzying wave of vertigo. Shit.</p><p>He thunked his head into the wall.</p><p>Kon appeared by his foot, wringing his stuffed lion paws in worry. “Ichigo, as soon as you stop lisping, I think we should have a good, long chat about what my eyes just witnessed—“</p><p>"There’s nothing to chat about." His voice came out flat. </p><p>"Ichigo, wait—"</p><p>Ignoring Kon, he stepped into the hallway. There was a slippery-looking smear of blood on the floor in front of the staircase. Five steps down, another distended red stain. Yuzu’s high-pitched voice rang from the living room. He heard the muted sounds of a television program. Isshin was probably down there. Clinic hours had ended, so he should be able to tend to Grimmjow’s injury.</p><p>Wiping a streak of blood from the corner of his mouth, Ichigo stepped over the bloodstain and walked into the bathroom. The mirror was still fogged up with condensation, and the green plastic shower curtain was pulled down the rail, half in and half out of the tub. The clean towels were stacked on the counter directly in front of the shower. He stood over the sink, faucet turned on, letting cold water soothe his stinging knuckles. He wasn’t sure what he had been about to do... what he would’ve done if Grimmjow hadn’t slammed him with his bone mask.</p><p>Well, that was a lie, he thought, fighting down a blush. If Karin hadn't interrupted them when she had, he might've done something messed up.</p><p>More than messed up— it was <em>wrong</em>. Wrong on every single cosmic level. Wrong here, wrong in Hueco Mundo, and probably code-red illegal in Soul Society. Central forty-six would probably have him executed via great pigeon of fire if they found that he’d tried to—</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. He splashed his face with ice-cold water. Fucking hell. He was out of his mind.</p><p>Whatever this feeling was, he needed to get rid of it fast. Grimmjow wasn’t his friend. Grimmjow wasn’t his anything. </p><p>And...most importantly, Grimmjow didn’t want him like that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My sincerest apologies for the lack of kissing in this chapter xD </p><p>Kudos and comments are always highly appreciated! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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